Artistic License
by keyascribe
Summary: Hijikata quite possibly has some romantic revelations about Sougou.  Or maybe he doesn't.  It's hard to tell with them.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Hideaki Sorachi's characters, but it was fun dressing up Sougou.

**Rated**: Teen for HxO implications.

**Summary**: Authors are never good news.

**Pairings**: HxO, although Hijikata's clueless and who knows what Sougou's thinking.

**A/N**: For everyone who wanted more HxO. If you squint hard there might be a plot.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed or favorited Sakura & Mayo! I don't have much time to answer reviews, but I deeply appreciate them.

* * *

_Artistic License_

_(Life is a Set of Twenty-four Volumes and None of Them are Translated)_

* * *

Chapter One 

Things started getting strange after the bombing of Maruzen (luckily the day AFTER the new Jump came out). The bombing wasn't strange – the Shinsengumi were getting so used to random bombs exploding that some members were getting suspiciously lax while responding (although Kondou-san at least thought Yamazaki's claim that the badminton racket was in case someone lobbed a grenade at them and he needed to hit it back, was plausible. But Kondou-san thought EVERYTHING was plausible – except for bad things, which always kind of surprised him.)

The fact that the bombing disrupted civic proceedings, caused considerable damage, began with a boom, escalated into a dramatic fight between fleeing terrorists and Shinsengumi troops, and ended with the terrorists inexplicably escaping amid the dust and smoke, was also as per usual.

Really, Hijikata sometimes wondered, did the terrorists have a contract with God that said they were always allowed one conveniently overlooked escape outlet? Was there a clause somewhere that stipulated the sudden appearance of large trucks to cling to in the event of no small winding back alleyway, and a river, lake or other patch of murky water to dive into if there was no truck?

Why was there even a lake below the bottom floor of Maruzen?! It was a BOOKSTORE! Didn't the builders know enough to check for easily broken underground pipes leading to the bay?! Hijikata had already put a note in his daily planner to hunt down the builders of all Maruzens and kill them somewhere between 1/5 and 5/16th dead.

It was during the battle, sometime right before the huge geyser of underground God-contract-clause escape material poured up into the basement floor that, thanks to the bomb, had become one with the first and second floors, that Sougou had saved the Amanto author who had been holding some sort of signing on the first (now basement) floor. And that's when things had begun to get strange.

And this, remember, was strange for the Shinsengumi, who had to deal with animal or thing-shaped aliens, terrorists with identity issues (really, shouldn't he WANT people to get his name wrong? What kind of sneaky underground terrorist went around announcing who he was all the time?!) and perhaps most significant of all, Sougou, on a regular basis.

Even Kondou had admitted it was a little strange, and he NEVER thought things were strange. He hadn't even thought it was strange that time when the VCR recorded the season finale of Ladies Four even though everyone in the squad had SWORN they had forgotten to program it. Personally, Hijikata had avoided going into the community room for at least a week or so, and was just as pleased when Sougou had accidentally exploded the machine while aiming a rocketlauncher at Hijikata's head.

The author that Sougou had saved by cutting through a falling timber with one slice of his blade (Hijikata had to grudgingly admit that Sougou was almost as good at dramatic flare as he was) had been there to promote his upcoming series of 24 volumes of a "classic samurai" coming-of-age saga. Hijikata had never heard of him, but Kondou had practically had a heart attack when he realized it was the author of "The Petals at Moonlight" who was grasping Sougou's arm so intently.

However, even he had seemed a bit confused when the author had moved on from stroking Sougou's sleeve to finger his hair, face and jaw and ears. When he got to the point of attempting to trace Sougou's collarbone, the young captain had shot his superior officers a disgruntled 'Just to let you know, I'm going to have to kill this man now if he doesn't stop' look, and Kondou had quickly hustled the author away.

Yamazaki was using his racket as a sieve to search through the spreading pool of water for traces of terrorists – or maybe fish – and everything else seemed to be being taken care of, so Hijikata lingered by Okita. "Sougou?"

Sougou made a face. "I think he drooled on me."

Kondou bounded back up. "He wants to take us out for dinner to show his thanks!"

"No thanks," Hijikata said brusquely.

"But it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

"Good, then I won't have to decline it ever again."

"Kondou-saaaaan, he drooled on me," Sougou complained, still poking at his sleeve.

Kondou's eyes instantly turned into puppy dog pools of pleading. "Please, Sougou," he begged, "I've read every book he's ever written!"

"You said he's only written one," Hijikata pointed out, annoyed at this sudden literary passion in his old friend.

"Only one's been translated until now. But soon his mangnum opus of 24 volumes rich in the proud history of the samurai will be unleashed upon the public! It'll be SO COOL! And he said he'll take us to a really good restaurant."

Sougou shrugged. "Okay, then I don't mind."

Immediately Kondou swiveled to fix Hijikata with his extra special Kicked Spaniel Meets Starry-Eyed Idealist gaze. Hijikata sighed grumpily in consent and hoped no one was looking at the Commander of the most feared law enforcement team in the city grabbed its "demon vice commander" and "demon prodigy" in half a hug each and grinned like a brain-damaged five-year-old.

"Just don't kill him, okay, Toshi?" Kondou added, grin dropping a little.

"I wasn't doing anything!" Hijikata scowled, offended. "Sougou was the one who was about to chop an arm off or something."

"You looked like you wanted to kill him."

"I always look like that."

Hijikata was not pouting, so Kondou had no reason to suddenly clap him brotherly across the back (causing Hijikata to wince slightly). "Don't worry!" he said optimistically. "Even if Tsugu-san is 'like that', we've already given Sougou the Talk, so there should be no problems, right?"

Kondou's version of the Talk, awkwardly given about the time Sougou had moved from a pouty, disconcertingly bland-eyed kid to a pouty, do-me-now-if-you-think-you-can pre-teenager, had been along the lines of "Sougou, see, um. Boys have um. Boy parts. Right? And, well. If anyone touches your boy parts and you don't want them to, you can stab them but don't kill them – and try to make it look like an accident."

Three or four injuries later, Kondou had realized he should have been more specific about which boy parts he had meant, since naturally Sougou considered all of his parts to be boy parts and thus, for example, someone touching him on the shoulder to ask the time deserved Stab.

Kondou, in what Hijikata considered to be his only craven act (except maybe that time when he had blamed the lack of mayonnaise on Yamazaki) had finally sent in Hijikata, who had been immensely relieved that Sougou already knew the contents of the more standard Talk. As far as Hijikata could tell (not that he was actually paying attention or anything) the standard talk had not yet been put into play, however, while Kondou's advice had resulted in several convincing accidents.

"Come on, Toshi," Kondou wheedled. "It'll be fun! With free alcohol!"

Hijikata conceded the alcohol but not the fun and after paperwork they met for dinner.

And that was when, for Hijikata at least, things got strange.

* * *

The Amanto could have almost passed for human, with only his overly pale eyes and lisp in speaking the language really giving him away. That and the fact he obviously had money, which not many of the true Earthlings had anymore. 

The restaurant was one of the best in the sector, lush and expensive with a no-swords policy that left Hijikata feeling jittery despite Sougou's known ability to pull out rocket launchers practically from thin air.

Over appetizers, Kondou and the author chatted nonstop – Kondou was really too simple not to get along with everyone, and the Amanto obviously took any excuse to drone on about his work. Hijikata fidgeted and tried not to look too bored, and Sougou sat with his usual lack-of-action switched-off expression, moving only to snag tempura with his chopsticks or swat away the Amanto's hand as it continually wandered over to finger his hair or clothing.

No sword notwithstanding – in a pinch there was always the straw in his water glass, or even the lemon - Hijikata would have been tempted to kill the author, or at least wound him a bit around the ears, if not for the perfectly unconcerned way Sougou kept batting away the writer's hands with barely a pause in eating.

For the entrée, Hijikata ordered steak because he felt like cutting up something. The waiter looked at him funny when he asked for mayonnaise.

"Does everyone on this planet like their meat so well-oiled?" the Amanto asked interestedly in his high fluting voice, gazing at Hijikata's eating habits.

"That's Toshi all right," Kondou agreed happily, oblivious to Hijikata's Stare of Death, which richocheted harmlessly into the bar, luckily missing the other dining tables and thus not causing customer trauma.

"To like what you like, regardless of the look of things– that is a very samurai trait, yes? Of course you do live by a code, but that very fact means you are beholden only to yourselves, am I correct?" Grandiosely, the author pontificated, seeming to be completely focused on the question of the moment, even as his hand stretched out to pat Sougou's hair.

"Well put!" Kondou said enthusiastically.

Sougou swatted the hand away with his chopsticks.

"That nobility of spirit – and yet creating a certain kind of rugged innocence – was what first attracted me to this planet," the Amanto explained seriously, seemingly unconscious that his hand was already moving back toward Sougou's face.

Sogou swatted the hand away.

"In fact, you may not know this, but my 24 volume Samurai saga, "The Rustle of the Cherry Trees," (a story of the coming of age of a young Samurai in a world torn by violence) was written before I had even set foot on this planet, but with a clear picture of the samurai spirit."

The hand wove toward Sougou. Hijikata sawed his steak viciously. Sougou swatted the hand away.

"But in fact, I must admit that until this afternoon, I had yet to encounter the kind of samurai I had pictured so clearly in my mind."

The hand moved back. Sougou swatted the hand away. Hijikata sawed his steak. Kondo beamed peacefully at how well everyone was getting alone.

"Thus, it makes me so pleased to find such a group of comrades as yourselves –"

The hand moved back. Hijikata sawed his steak so hard it cut the plate.

This time Sougou used his fork and stabbed.

"Ha ha," laughed the Amanto, gripping his wounded hand painfully. "That spirit I do so admire. And thus it is that I have an application to make. I have various arrangements about my printing I need to see to tomorrow, but I am terribly afraid that that renegade bomber may strike again. Perhaps he does not like my work, yes?"

Hijikata wondered idly whether, if he accidentally slipped the information to Sakata, the naturally curly-haired idiot could manage to get it to his terrorist buddy in time for said terrorist to blow something useful up for a change.

"Therefore," the Amanto continued, punctured hand now chastely on the table and bleeding sluggishly as Sougou calmly finished his dinner, "tomorrow I would ask that you allow me the use of the brave Samurai who saved my life earlier."

Hijikata choked on the piece of mayonnaise covered plate he was chewing. "What?"

"I already cleared it with your Shogunate and they agree it would be a beneficial and gracious gesture on your part," the Amanto said smoothly.

"What?" Hijikata demanded again.

Kondou, of course, beamed. "I'm sure nothing could make Sougou prouder!" he declared.

Sougou looked at Hijikata's scowl and Kondou's grin, then glanced at the Amanto. "Free lunch?" he asked.

"Of course!"

The captain of the first squad of the Shinsengumi shrugged. "Okay," he said neutrally.

Which left Hijikata to say belatedly and somewhat on his own, one more time, "What?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Hideaki Sorachi's characters, but it was fun dressing up Sougou.

**Rated**: Teen for implications.

**Summary**: Authors are never good news.

**Pairings**: HxO, although Hijikata's clueless and who knows what Sougou's thinking.

**Warning**: Beware Hijikata's leaps of logic.

**A/N**: Yet another bizarre tale that comes from reading far too much doujinishi. Hijikata actually thinks he's the sane one Cheers to Mina Lightstar and her excellent Gintama fiction for Sougou's habit of confiscating pornography. I was wrong, there is no plot.

* * *

_Artistic License_

_(Life is a Set of Twenty-four Volumes and None of Them are Translated)_

* * *

Chapter Two 

There was no talking to Sougou when he had made up his mind about something, so Hijikata pretended not to be completely offended at the trivial nature of assigning a distinguished member of the city's elite corps of swordsmen to babysit a pompous author with wandering hands. Thus there was absolutely no reason for Kondo to repeatedly refer to his expression of obvious disinterest in anything relating to the situation, as "a pout". It didn't help matters when Sougou helpfully suggested that perhaps the reason Hijikata was pouting (which he wasn't) was because he wanted to be the one to accompany the Amanto (which he sure as hell didn't!).

In the end, they parted company for the night with Kondou still beaming and talking about the big day tomorrow and Sougou barely even trying to kill Hijikata at all, and headed for their respective sleeping quarters.

Ten minutes later, as per his role as the sane one who actually kept track of what was going on instead of just being all inspirational and relaxed and _stupid _, Hijikata sneaked back along the corridor and made his way to Yamazaki's room. Yamazaki was fortunately awake, or became that way after Hijikata kicked him a few times.

"F-fukuchou?" Yamazaki asked confusedly, looking a little nervous because he always did, or perhaps remembering that unfortunate confusing time when Hijikata had attempted to appropriate his badminton racket while he was asleep only to end up toppling onto Yamazaki's prone figure in a way that had been totally misconstrued as "groping".

"Yamazaki," Hijikata whispered. "Tomorrow I want you to follow Captain Okita as he escorts a mildly important Amanto around."

Yamazaki paled slightly. "But Vice Commander," he whimpered, "Captain Okita will know I'm there!"

"So?"

"He doesn't like it when people spy on him."

"So?"

"Last time you made me follow him he stabbed me in the arm."

"He had no business trying to sneak to the amusement park when he was supposed to be patrolling."

"It was my serving arm!"

"He probably just thought you were coming on to him. He does that with everyone."

"He climbed up two buildings to get to me!"

"Then be sneakier this time. I don't trust that guy!"

"Captain Okita? Or the Amanto?"

"Either one! All day, Yamazaki – I want to know everything they do."

"Yes, sir," Yamazaki whispered, downcast, and cradled his racket sadly in contemplation of the several weeks it took stab wounds to heal.

Seeing such a miserable expression, some men might have been touched enough to think, gosh what a thankless job is the life of a spy. But Hijikata didn't give a shit.

And so less than twenty-four hours later, Yamazaki staggered into Hijikata's quarters, pale-faced from exertion and blood-loss.

Hijikata frowned, not at the bandages covering Yamazaki's swaying figure, but at the clock.

"So early?" he asked. "I thought for sure they'd stay out all hours."

"Well, sir," Yamazaki said weakly, "I have to admit . . . I lost them."

Hijikata's eyes glowed in a very scary way. "You what! " he snapped. "What kind of spy are you? Why are we even employing you? Why haven't you quit and gone to join the world's badminton team already?"

"Because last time when I asked you if I could you said if I ever mentioned it again you'd stick my racket up my you-know-what but then you said on second thought maybe I'd like that too much, so --"

"All right!" Hijikata cut him off. "Just tell me what you did manage to find out."

Yamazaki swallowed. "Well, during the morning they mostly just went to various publishing offices and some bookstores. As far as I could tell there was nothing suspicious going on – but when I was looking in the window at the fourth store Captain Okita pretended like he was going to open the window for some fresh air and stabbed me a little – "

"I don't want to waste time hearing about your failings," Hijikata said brusquely.

"Yes, sir. Then they went to lunch, quite a nice place. They were met by a man who I subsequently learned is a famous photographer. They both seemed quite taken with Captain Okita's profile. That's all I could see before he took out his rocket launcher and –"

"Yamazaki, what did I say I didn't care about?"

Yamazaki miserably adjusted some of his bandages. "Sorry, sir. After I regained consciousness, I managed to track them to a popular geisha house. I overheard some of the women there mentioning something about 'costumes' and Captain Okita 'cosplaying' something. At that point, Captain Okita pretended like he was going to the bathroom and stabbed me a little more, and um told me a few things to pass on to you but I've, um, forgotten them now. So if you don't mind, I'll go back to the hospital now . . . . "

"Fine," Hijikata said absently. "Don't forget you have drill practice tomorrow."

Yamazaki cringed, causing blood to ooze out of several wounds. "Yes sir," he said, crying to himself, and limped back to the emergency room.

"Geisha house," Hijikata muttered to himself, not noticing the wounded spy's departure. "Cosplaying. . . . "

He shivered. It all sounded pretty fishy, this talk of costumes and photographers. And Sougou, despite being a lunatic with inhuman swordsman skills, had barely spent any time out in the real world. He had been under his sister and Kondou's care since he was a child and that was no way to learn anything practical. Sure, he had that disturbing habit of confiscating pornography from minors, but that didn't mean he really understood the way the dirty underbelly of the world of desire worked.

Unless . . . he did and he liked that kind of thing.

The thought gave Hijikata pause. He had never bothered to wonder about the young captain's preferences before, given that there were so many more pressing things to think about when Sougou was around, like how to escape getting his arms cut off because "there was a loose thread on your sleeve, Hijikata-san".

Now that he thought about it, it made sense Okita would be kinky. But that didn't mean that he should be frolicking around town _doing_ things! Not at his age! Well, okay, he wasn't that young anymore, in fact, he was probably exactly the age for doing things kinkily and in a frolicksome way . . . but it didn't matter how not-nine-anymore he was, because he was a Shinsengumi captain! It wasn't just _his_ reputation at stake!

Right, then, it was decided. First thing tomorrow, Hijikata would have a long talk with Sougou and explain there were some things you just couldn't do when you were the top captain of an elite force of law enforcement officers and that absolutely included cosplay.

Also, maybe he should ask Sougou not to be quite so hard on Yamazaki next time.

But on the other hand, this time he had left the man's serving arm untouched.

Damn him.

* * *

At some point in history, Hijikata had developed the habit of conducting Business with Sougou in the communal bath. This was mostly because if Sougou was naked then he probably wasn't carrying any weaponry with which to try to kill Hijikata (although there had been a close call once with soap and a wash towel). Up until now, Hijikata had never had a problem with talking to a naked Sougou. Hell, up until now he had never even really thought about the fact that Sougou _was_ naked. 

But now here they were, in the bath, without clothes, Sougou leaning back languidly, semi-transparent water lapping at his shoulders and suggesting the sleek body underneath; and somehow, for some twisted despicable reason, suddenly Hijikata was _noticing. _It was almost enough to give him that uncomfortable feeling that heralded the onslaught of a . . . headache.

"So," he said to take his mind off the bizarre nightmarish paths his brain had started to take. "You were out late last night."

Sougou made a bit of a face, either in acknowledgement of Yamazaki or of how absolutely stupid that line had sounded. What was he, Hijikata silently berated himself, a grandpa checking on a teenager's antics? Did it really, in the grand scheme of things, matter whether Sougou had spent the night having kinky photographed costume sex with an alien? Did he even want to know if Sougou had or not? Did he want to know whether he wanted to know? What did it mean if he did want to know? What was happening today, that the contemplation of Sougou spending the night having kinky photographed costume sex would threaten to give him a morning . . . headache?

"They had all sorts of ideas for things," Sougou said, sounding bored, before Hijikata could stop listening. "Kondou-san said they could use me today, too, because we didn't get close to finished last night."

Abruptly, Hijikata knew the answer to the previous questions. That answer was NO, he did not want to know. Not the details, not the general outline, nothing. Besides, if it was too bad then he might have to make Sougou commit seppuku and poor Kondo-san would have his heart broken and – what? Sougou was going it again today? And Kondou was _promoting _it?

"You want to do MORE?" Hijikata asked, trying not to sound strangled. "It was that good?"

Sougou considered, tilting his head slightly in contemplation. "Well, it wasn't what I was expecting," he admitted. "But it was relatively painless and I didn't have to move around much, so I guess it was okay."

Hijikata didn't know what to say. For Sougou to think that the only thing good about sex was that he didn't have to move much! It was horrifying. Actually, the very idea of combining Sougou and sex in the same sentence was horrifying. Oh god, now he was actually picturing Sougou having sex! Wait, that was a strange position to imagine. Would Sougou even like it that way? Oh god. Had he actually just thought that?! Which specific evil deed had he committed lately to require such retribution from the universe as these visions?

"Hijikata-san, why are you clawing at your eyes like that?" Sougou inquired curiously. "If you're having problems with your eyesight maybe I should do some exploratory surgery . . . just let me get my katana . . . ."

"No!" Hijikata ordered. "Don't get out of the bath. Just stay where you are." Then he considered his situation. One of them would have to get out and the way things were going it wouldn't be him, not for a few minutes at least. "On second thought," he added, "get out of here. You're giving me a . . . headache."

Sougou shrugged, rising out of the water gracefully. "I have to leave soon anyhow," he commented. "They're picking me up at 9."

"That early?" Hijikata couldn't resist a shudder of disgust. "It's going to take all day?"

"I guess some of it's pretty complicated," Sougou said casually as he picked up his towel and sauntered toward the changing room. "Hijikata-san shouldn't stay in the water too long. You'll get wrinkled."

Hijikata decided that some things were worse than wrinkles.

Much, much worse. . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Hideaki Sorachi's characters, but it was fun dressing up Sougou.

**Rated**: Teen for implications & Hijikata's dirty mind.

**Summary**: Authors are never good news.

**Pairings**: HxO, although Hijikata's clueless and who knows what Sougou's thinking.

**A/N**: Moments dangerously close to WAFF. Hijikata figures some things out and gets more confused about others. Who said anything about a plot?

**A/N2**: Finally we get to the part where my disclaimer makes sense! Whee.

* * *

_Artistic License_

_(Life is a Set of Twenty-four Volumes and None of Them are Translated)_

* * *

Chapter Three 

" . . . .shi? Na, Toshi? Are you alive? Some sort of bath insect hasn't sucked out your brains, has it? Sougou didn't slip paralyzing juice into your morning milk again in the hopes that you might topple over and drown, did he? You don't have a girl down there giving you a you-know-what, do you? Or maybe you're doing a secret special training that requires you to focus on nothing and become one with the infinite? Did you stay up watching reruns and sleep deprivation combined with the heavy steam have sapped your ability to move? Is the bath filled with a strange alien secretion that only looks like water but is in fact a portal to another dimension, causing you to slip into another phased reality where you can't see or hear me? Hmm, or what else could it be. . . . "

Regretfully, Hijikata realized that Kondo was not going to stop talking just because he was ignoring him. Nor was he likely to guess "are you ignoring me in the hopes I go away" any time soon.

"I'm fine, Kondo-san," he said more or less patiently. "I was just thinking."

"About something cool?" Kondou asked eagerly, jumping into the bath with a splash. "Say, Toshi, you're kind of wrinkly-looking. "

"Un."

"Did you hear about Sougou?"

"Un."

"They really like him!" Kondo grinned, as if that was anything to be proud about. "I'm going to drop by and watch this afternoon!" he added happily. "Tsugu-san says I might even be able to participate."

Luckily, despite what many classroom teachers might tell you, heads cannot spontaneously explode.

"Na, Toshi," Kondou asked curiously, "why are you scratching at your eyes like that?"

"Kondo-san! I thought you're always saying Sougou is family!" Hijikata protested, wondering if it was possible to never, ever, again think about what Isao had just said.

Kondou frowned slightly. "My family, Toshi. Not yours. I mean, do you feel like a father toward him?"

Hijikata fought a shudder as he imagined Sougou as his son. All right, he was an evil ruthless bastard, but surely he had never done anything so bad as to deserve THAT.

"Or a little brother?"

Hijikata fought down another shiver.

"Or even a cousin? Can you tell me you feel anything remotely like the steady protectiveness of an elder first or second cousin?"

"No . . . . ." Hijikata admitted. He didn't feel like a father, brother, first or second cousin toward Sougou. Mostly, if truth be told, he felt a sort of dread, but beyond that there was a kind of affection, wasn't there? Or maybe that was hatred. Possibly both. But he certainly wouldn't want him harmed (much) or taken advantage of, or anywhere except here, with them, scaring the shit out of everyone, where he belonged. . . .

Kondou was doing his beaming thing again. "Right!" he said, as if something had been decided. "So why don't you come with today with me?"

Hijikata considered slugging his old friend, but walked out of the bath instead.

And so the saga continued.

* * *

Kondo tracked him down after dinner. 

"I bet Sougou was sorry you didn't come today," the commander of the Shinsengumi said reprovingly, causing Hijikata to choke on his sake. "But don't worry," he added, triumphantly waving around a small white packet, "I got pictures!"

Hijikata choked some more. "I am NOT going to look at those," he said, voice dripping with disgust (and spilled sake).

Kondou made a 'Toshi is being difficult for no reason' face. "Aww," he pouted, "some of them are really good! For a beginner, Sougou's a natural at this kind of thing."

Hijikata had put down the sake, so this time he just choked on thin air.

Still grinning a cat ate the cream-filled canary grin, Kondou slapped down the envelope and stood back up.

"You know you want to," he invited teasingly. "Trust me, you'll be glad you did!"

Once again, Hijikata considered punching his best friend, but he would have to stand up and that seemed like a lot of effort.

Instead, after he was sure Kondo was out of sight and no one else was around to see him, he carefully pushed back the empty sake container. Swallowing, fingers trembling slightly, he reached into the envelope and pulled out the first picture . . . .

. . . . which showed a fully closed Sougou, in a dojo gi and hakama, sitting cross-legged and leaning playfully back like he was resting after practice.

. . . Eh?

Rapidly, Hijikata pulled out the rest of the photos and thumbed through them. They were all more of the same. Sougou in various costumes, ranging from simple dojo-ware to elaborately styled formal kimono, standing or sitting in a series of poses. There was nothing lewd about it at all.

That was . . . . Hijikata considered the possiblities . . . Surprising, certainly. Relieving, yes. . . . Disappointing?

Hell.

No.

Relief, yes, relief was definitely the dominant emotion. Now he didn't have to think his best friend had turned into a kinky gay teen molester, or that Sougou had become a cool-eyed porn-for-money worker, although that might help with some of the Shinsegumi finance problems.

But why the hell was someone taking random pictures of Sougou? Sure, there were always some fangirls hanging around the Shinsengumi headquarters and Okita had his share of admirers, but these photos looked too professional to be just pinups. Curious, he flipped over a photo and saw penciled on the back _Vol. 4?. _

Ah. Suddenly the cloudy and confusing world grew clear again as a radiant beam of understanding shot down through Hijikata's incisive if recently slightly hentai-tinted intellect. Tsugu wanted Sougou to pose for the cover of his 24 volume Samurai coming of age saga!

Oh.

A bit more relaxed now that he wasn't expecting hot teen porn, Hijikata flipped through the rest of the photos. Kondo was right – when you didn't know his real, twisted personality, viewed objectively, Sougou seemed just right for the cover of a coming of age Samurai saga. Mostly his expression was his usual look of mild boredom, but in the context it was transformed into a mixture of artlessness and confidence that gave off a faintly PG to PG-13 air that would have fit well into the pages of any story in Jump.

Funny, Hijikata had never thought of Sougou like that before . . . .It seemed so . . . innocent. And thus very very _very _wrong.

But there was Sougou, in different colored training hakama, going through kata, and yawning, and with his arms behind his head looking exactly the way he had for years lounging around Kondo's dojo – although at that time he had never worn purple hakama and a pale purple shirt, which was probably a very good thing. He looked much like he looked every day in the Shinesengumi, too, seductive but mild – minus the batshit crazy and murderous part.

. . . had he just said Sougou looked seductive? Well, of course everyone knew that. Thus the Stab.

To distract himself from the strangely worrisome line of thought, Hijikata turned back to the pictures.

The boy Sougou was supposed to be in the story must be growing up because the kimono and hakama were becoming more elaborate and thankfully less purple. In one picture he was actually almost smiling, one hand lifted slightly in welcome – that must have been when Kondou had arrived, since he was probably the only living person on Earth that could coax a non-smirk from Sougou.

Sure enough, in the next few pictures Kondou was there as well, dressed as a low-ranking official of something and grinning in his big brother way as Sougou rolled his eyes at him. It was rather cute – if Hijikata was one to indulge in sentiments like that. Which he wasn't. The next picture showed Kondou with an arm hooked around Sougou's shoulder, while Sougou pouted – probably Kondo had just finished telling one of those ridiculous when-Sougou-was-this-high stories, which he loved to relate even though they inevitably ended with Kondo himself getting his ass kicked.

There were a few more with Kondo and Sougou fooling around – several with the two of them pretending to spar as the photographer obviously tried and failed to get one where it looked like Kondo was getting the upper hand. Another had Sougou half-buried in the layers for formal coming of age and Kondou helping him, looking so fatherly that Hijikata half-regretted that they hadn't bothered to do the full antiquated formal routine when Sougou had turned 15.

Finally, there was Kondou stretched out on the ground, looking incredibly not dead, with dark liquid poured over him, with Sougou kneeling next to him covered with more dark liquid and looking like he had calmly just chopped down whoever Kondo was supposed to be.

In the next shot Sougou just looked puzzled (Hijikata guessed this was where the photographer was trying to explain that Sougou was NOT the killer and thus should look upset, not professional). Then Sougou was looking down, not at Kondou's still obviously undead body, but at his own stained hands and suddenly the puzzlement looked a lot more like being . . .torn. The next shot showed Sougou staring directly into the camera, a smear of blood on his face where he had evidently touched it between takes, and Hijikata shivered again at the hint of the vacant stare he knew so well.

The next few shots were of Sougou in artfully slashed clothes, no doubt avenging whatever had happened to whoever Kondou was, and then with dirty bandages around his chest, apparently recovering from avenging whatever happened to whoever Kondou was. He looked more annoyed than pained by the fictional wounds, but that again that was how he looked with real pain, too.

It seemed to be getting toward the time of the story when the love interest should enter the plot – not that Hijikata ever read things like this – but the bandages were the end of the numbered shots. The last picture was marked with a 17, so there were apparently 7 more covers to go.

There were also a few more photos not designated as anything – Sougou looking anticipatory, maybe even eager, followed by others where he seemed to be waiting for something, and then finally one or two where he seemed disappointed, his expression turning curiously lifeless. He was waiting for you to come, Kondou had said. Could he have caused that disappointment?

Ridiculous. Still, Hijikata decided, now that he knew it wasn't sex, he might as well stop by tomorrow. He wanted to see who the love interest was.

* * *

Sliding open the door and feeling stupidly self-conscious, Hijikata stepped into the light, airy room. "Excuse me—" he began, than stopped as he caught sight of Sougou. 

Today the young captain was dressed in something dark red that brought out the luster – or bloodlust- in his laquered brown eyes. The obi was slim and bronze and the kimono was much more elegant than anything in the shots of the day before, hanging with seductively straight lines across his chest and down from his hips. In such a color, with the light coming down from the high windows, Sougou looked hardly like the person Hijikata knew.

The snap of a camera roused him from his surprise and he looked around in annoyance.

A small Amanto with a large camera smiled up at him cheerfully. "Sorry, sorry," the photographer apologized without meaning it, "force of habit, sometimes I can't stop myself, especially when such a good looking dangerous man such as yourself walks in. You'll be looking for Okita-chan, yes? Such a darling boy. He has just a bit of a tendency to look like he's about to kill someone, but other than that he's a such a _model _model. Okita-chaan," sang the photographer, "another one of your good-looking admirers is here to seee you!"

Sougou twisted around, causing the shoulder of the red kimono to fall just slightly, revealing a slim collar-bone. There was a frenzied clicking from the direction of the photographer.

"Sougou," Hijikata greeted gruffly, feeling stupid.

Of course Sougou did not light up like he had with Kondo – he never did with Hijikata and Hijikata never expected it. Which was why Hijikata was absolutely not disappointed in any way.

Instead, because that's what Sougou did, the captain pouted, folding his arms loosely as the kimono slid still further off his shoulder. "Hijikata-san," he complained, "Kondou-san said you would come yesterday. Were you out having fun without me? Did you catch terrorists? Did you discover plots? It's so boring here. I haven't even confiscated pornography from minors for three days!"

"Quit whining," Hijikata snapped, and unable to stop himself stepped quickly forward to pull up the slipped kimono. "And learn how to dress yourself. What kind of samurai can't keep his clothes on?"

"We don't wear kimono on duty," Sougou pointed out. "Besides, last time at the Christmas party you bet Kondo-san that you could win at strip-janken and –"

"That was entirely different! And – does he have to keep taking pictures like that?"

"That's what he does," Sougou shrugged, and the movement reminded Hijikata that he still had his hand on Sougou's arm. He dropped it like it was hot iron.

"Anyway," he muttered, "I just stopped by, so go do whatever you need to do. I'll wait for a little while – so Kondo-san won't yell at me."

"I got into trouble for not looking upset when Kondo-san was supposed to be dead," Sougou admitted, turning back to the mirror and casually sliding the red outer layer off his shoulders so it fell like a wave of blood around his waist. "But it was so stupid. Kondou-san would never die like that."

"I've seen grandmothers who looked more dead," Hijikata agreed absently, as Sougou reached up to work loose the tightly pulled white underlayer of his clothing.

"Hijikata-san, help me take this off," he whined. "No, never mind, I've got it."

"Wh—" Hijikata jumped as if he was a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. "Wha-what are you doing?" he demanded, fighting off the instinct to gather up the cloth and pile it back over Sougou's smooth pale back.

Sougou looked around innocently from arranging the fallen layers, the action revealing more slim body and well-toned muscle. "Suma-san said for the next shot we need some skin," he said blithely. "Right Suma-san?"

"Oh dear yes," the photographer answered airily. "But more than that, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean more than that," Hijikata demanded, brain already back to half way to exploding. "There IS no more than that!"

The photographer gave him a narrow look. "Dear, I _know_ you can't be that naïve. We just need a little more to tantalize, that's all . . . "

As he advanced, Hijikata placed himself squarely in front of Sougou, acting as a wall between the half-undressed Okita and the camera. "This is as tantalizing as it's going to get with my Captain," he growled.

Suma-san measured him for a moment, camera still automatically clicking in his hands, and then shrugged. "Fine, fine," he capitulated disapprovingly, "we don't want to trespass on the kindness of the Shogunate who is doing us this well-received favor. Okita-chan, why don't we move on to the next costume, yes?"

With a last dark look, the photographer guided Sougou behind some folded screens. Hijikata listened intently in case of camera clicks while Sougou was between costume, but he only heard breathing and the rustle of silk. It made him feel awkward, to sit and listen to Sougou undressing. Of course he had seen the captain unclothed any number of times, starting back when the boy wouldn't have caused any commotion in a mixed bath, to when he had started to get suspiciously attentive glances as he washed in the mens' side, to now when he was careful to only use the Shinsengumi bath because in the public ones the smart people knew them by reputation but the dumb ones got Stab.

But Hijikata had never watched Sougou like the dumb ones did; if he looked at the lean body at all it was a half-guilty action of counting the new scars that the Shinsengumi had put there. Mostly he was just happy because if Sougou was naked he probably wasn't going to be able to try and kill him. It wasn't as if he had ever just sat and listened to Sougou's clothing going off and on, idly trying to imagine what piece was falling down, what was sliding up . . . .

Odd, half-tantalizing images of Sougou sliding silk layers up his skin, of Sougou wrapping his waist, sliding the two halves of a kimono together, slipping arms through silken sleeves, floated in his mind as he sat in the warm sunlight floating down. He was almost asleep when the rustling stopped and soft footsteps made their way around the screens and out into the room.

Yawning, Hijikata stood up. "Sougou, what kept you," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and squinting to focus on the figure before him.

A rather cute young girl smiled back at him.

How strange.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own none of Hideaki Sorachi's characters, but it was really fun stressing out Toshirou.

**Rated**: Teen for implications.

**Summary**: Authors are never good news.

**Pairings**: HxO, although Hijikata's clueless and who knows what Sougou's thinking.

**A/N**: The last chapter for now, and still bravely plotless! Those who reviewed, I worship you.

* * *

_Artistic License_

_(Life is a Set of Twenty-four Volumes and None of Them are Translated)_

* * *

Chapter Four 

Staring at the girl-like thing in front of him, Hijikata quickly tried to remember the steps for figuring out if you're having a stroke. Wasn't imagining your colleague had changed gender one of the signs? If it wasn't, it should be.

"So . . . gou?" he said slowly.

It was Sougou, must be, the color and general Sougouness was still there, only . . . softer, not looking exactly like the captain but thankfully not looking exactly like his sister, either.

The figure, light hair teased into an innocent schoolgirl 'do that accented the spiced chocolate eyes, reached out to take hold of his arm and nestled up to his side devilishly. "Well, what does Hijikata-san think?" she asked sweetly.

Hijikata's thinking process, which had frozen upon trying to process pouty red lips, delicately outlined eyelashes, pale powdered skin and a radiant array of patterned kimono, abruptly ground back into gear.

"Get the hell away from me!" he screeched, jumping out of reach of the Sougou-thing.

"Maaa, Hijikata-san is so coooold," Sougou cooed, leaning up to touch the tip of Hijikata's nose with one coquettish finger.

He's never even been to the Geisha, how the hell is he so good at acting like one? Hijikata thought. The only answers he could think of were sure to scar him further.

"Stop acting like some Paako-chan," he said harshly. "The world doesn't need any more samurai-turned-kimono-girls."

Sougou looked dissatisfied, although at least that was a normal expression. "Don't I look better than Gintoki-san?" he asked petulantly, pursing his carefully painted lips.

"You're a member of the Shinsengumi! You're not SUPPOSED to look better in drag than other men," Hijikata snarled, avoiding the question (and planning to bury it deep deep in the layers of his subconscious never again to see the light of day). "Why are you even wearing that? If you tell me you like it I'll prepare the articles for seppuku right now."

Sougou shot him a reproachful glance. "You know how these 24-volume stories go. There's always some time when the hero has to dress as a girl."

Hijikata vowed right then and there to never, ever, read another 24-volume story again.

He winced as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Now it's Hijikata-san's turn to be messy," Sougou reproved, straightening the dark "off-duty" kimono fastidiously.

In a strange, distant way, Hijikata felt the rest of his brain dissolve in fiery explosion.

"Fine. Can I leave now?" he sighed wearily as he contemplated the girlishly alluring figure of the premiere swordsmen of all his men.

"Kondo-san said you had to keep me company," Sougou said unbendingly.

Beaten, Hijikata allowed himself to be (delicately) manhandled back down to a spot on the floor and wondered when exactly he had lost control of his life. Somehow whenever it came into contact with Sougou, everything immediately went to hell.

In the middle of the room, Sougou, tabi-clothed feet twinkling, and perfumed sleeves falling back to reveal slender wrists, was examining an ornamental umbrella and murmuring about Kagura-chan.

It was going to be a long, long day.

* * *

Some time after what Hijikata liked to call The Time That No True Samurai Would Ever Mention Again I Mean it Kondo-San and No, Sougou, I Did Not Get Hard Watching You, It Was Just That I Fell Asleep and Had a Dream Which is What Happens to Men So Let's Not Talk About it Again Or I Will Really Kill You This Time, a special delivery came for Kondo. 

Hijikata was first aware of more clamor from the dojo than usual and eventually stuck his head out of his room and grabbed the nearest person, who happened to be Yamazaki, who was almost out of the bandages now.

"What the hell is going on?" he growled. "Did Katsura suddenly show up at the main gates and start doing a strip dance? Did Sougou finally kill Kondo-san in one of their matches? Shit, Sougou didn't finally kill Kondou-san, did he?"

"Uh, no, nothing like that," Yamazaki stuttered, looking like he always did when forced to be the beleagured bearer of bad news. "It's just that the . . .uh . . . 24 volumes of Tsugu-san's samurai coming of age saga came out this morning and Commander Kondo just got them so we . . .wanted . . .to . . . see . . . .the . . . .pictures?"

Yamazaki had been simultaneously slowing down and backing away from the growing glower on Hijikata's face. Squeaking out the last word, he darted away like a black-clad gazelle sensing bloodlust in the savannah, leaving Hijikata alone with his InstantaBlaze wrath.

But even Hijikata occasionally succumbed - eventually - to certain inevitable things. The tide or pull of gravity he might fight, but when Kondo and Sougou teamed up resistance was impossible.

Sullenly, he picked up his trusty sword, which would never betray him and force him to go see his wakizashi dress up as a haircomb, and walked with heavy socked feet to the dojo where the assembled troops quaked momentarily with fear at his appearance, then sighed a collective if surreptitious sigh of relief when instead of killing them all, he simply made his way to where Kondo and Sougou sat and joined them.

"Toshi! They're out!" Kondo beamed.

"I still think we should get a royalty," Sougou said dissatisfiedly.

"Oh, Sougou, wasn't the experience alone worth any price?" Kondo asked good-naturedly. "I for one can't wait to see the finished product that took so much sweat and effort from our famed first captain!"

Sougou shrugged. "It was only dressing up for four days."

"Four days when you could have caught a cold from changing clothes, or gotten a nasty rash from some strange and dangerous material!" Kondo insisted grandly. "Not to mention the wounds you could have possibly sustained if you had tripped on your geisha kimono when Toshi attacked you after you did that fan dance for him! At any rate," he went on hastily as the level of hostily from the Hijikata side began to noticeably rise, "here, let us feast our eyes on the full 24-volume glory of a coming of age saga featuring the forever memorialized forms of those we know and love!"

There was a slightly dubious cheer from the assembled troops, then a more general murmur of approval as Kondo started to hand around the volumes.

The first book covers came as no surprise to Hijikata. They were the same photos as he had already seen – Sougou looking out at the reader in a slightly bored manner, Sougou leaning on a added-in tree looking bored, Sougou relaxing (bored), boredly doing kata for several books, then sitting more formally (bored), and then, all in various degrees of his standard bored attitude, wandering aimlessly on a painted-in road somewhere, meeting Kondo-san, looking down at the blood on his hands as Kondo pretended to be dead, with a superimposed close up of Sougou's battle eyes in the background, and of course then Sougou fighting and wounded and recovering. . . . .

Suddenly, the cheery babble of voices died off as if an ax had sliced its head off. Hijikata blinked, and dove across several troop members to snatch back volume 18 with a hiss. No, he hadn't been imagining horrible murder-inducing things. There, on the cover of book 18, apparently contemplating Sougou sitting lazily in one corner, was Hijikata himself, looking at Sougou with an expression that looked somehow . . . _smoldering. _

Smoldering?

_SMOLDERING? _

Like a man possessed, in eerie silence, Hijikata lifted up volume 19 from the box. Sougou, dark red kimono sliding off his shoulder stood with a slightly surprised look as Hijikata intimately reached up to pull the silk back in place.

But that wasn't how it had happened! There had been no intimacy! None!

"Uh, Toshi . . . ." Kondo began nervously, but the pure black fury rolling off of Hijikata froze his words.

Volume 20 showed Hijikata standing protectively in front of a disheveled, half-naked Sougou who peeked out from under one raised arm as Hijikata glared at an unknown assailant. 21, of course, had The Kimono. Hijikata, looking thunderstruck, was superimposed in a corner, staring lustfully at the coyly posing Sougou.

Okay, there had DEFINITELY been no lust. It had been pure 100 untainted horrified disbelief, somehow mutated by this cover into something absolutely wrong and full of covetness. Of which they had been NONE. AT. ALL.

"Toshi, maybe we should stop here . . ." Kondo managed weakly, his own eyes agape as he took in the yaoi-dripping covers.

"There are still three more volumes to go," Hijikata said tonelessly, and Kondo nodded, pale but brave in the face of shounen ai.

Volume 22 had Sougou tenderly straightening Hijikata's yukata collar (okay, MAYBE that had happened) and Volume 23 (When the hell had THAT been taken?) was a rather sumptuous picture of him stretched out sleeping with a faint grin on his lips, while Sougou (thank god out of the geisha costume) looking at him rather solemnly. And Volume 24 was a surprisingly simple shot of Sougou watching as Hijikata walked away, showing only Hijikata's back and a strangely unreadable expression on Sougou's face.

. . . wait a minute.

Hijikata frowned, his colossal anger derailed for the moment by the unexpected ending, much to the relief of everyone in the dojo.

His back? He was leaving?

"Are you telling me they broke up?" he demanded, outraged. "After all that, he's going to leave the kid? That bastard!"

"Uh," said Kondo eloquently, blinking under the sudden shift from heading-for-apocalypse to manga critic. "I think maybe they needed to follow their own paths?"

"What sort of crap is that," Hijikata growled, brandishing volume 24 like a weapon.

Kondo flinched as it was pointed at him. "Um, samurai crap?" he ventured again.

"Who wants to read 24 volumes of coming-of-age samurai shounen ai just to have them break up at the end, dammit! Where's that author, hasn't he ever read Jump, doesn't he know there are CONVENTIONS THAT REQUIRE HAPPY ENDINGS even in YAOI?"

There was a certain ringing pause, as of an entire dojo holding its breath as it waits for the very dangerous person ranting to replay his own words.

Hijikata paused and replayed his own words.

"They put me in a shounen ai yaoi samurai saga?"

"Now, Toshi, I'm sure they didn't mean –"

"They put me in a SHOUNEN AI YAOI SAMURAI SAGA?"

"None of us knew, I promise you-"

"THEY PUT ME IN A SHOUNEN AI YAOI SAMURAI SAGA WITH _SOUGOU_?!"

Sougou tossed his head. "Maa, Hijikata-san, you know a lot of people would be happy about that."

In any other neighborhood, the following shrieks of rage and panic, combined with the sounds of intense, methodical and somewhat papery destruction, would have caused the neighbors to call the police. Since, however, said shrieking and destroying was being done BY the police, the neighbors did nothing. After all, they were used to it by now.

* * *

"He'll just buy another set, you know," Sougou said reproving as Hijikata, his ire worked off on 24 volumes and most of the dojo, plus a few troop members who weren't quick enough in making their escape, sauntered out onto the engawa and lit a cigarette. 

"Che, what do I care about some lousily written saga," Hijikata shrugged.

"Still, it was vaugely interesting." Sougou yawned a little and climbed lazily to his feet.

"Well, at least we got free dinner from that damn author," Hijikata admitted. "I suppose that was something."

"Mmm," Sougou agreed absently. "Well, that and the sex."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Hijikata froze then decided he hadn't heard anything.

And the strange, strange saga wound on.


End file.
